


Best of You

by Dulcinea



Category: Metallica
Genre: M/M, Rehabilitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3103076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcinea/pseuds/Dulcinea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last images Lars had of James were starting to change and fade... Co-written with Cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best of You

**Author's Note:**

> Set in 2001, during James's rehab. Guess what song the title's from. :P

The last images Lars had of James were starting to change and fade. His brain mostly kept a few seconds, those few seconds of James saying he's not trying to pick a fight. The weird blond of James's beard and hair. The eyes that didn't seem so blue, with the spark in them gone some place else.

He didn't like that James.

So when he started to miss him, to actually experience what it was like to miss James, the images changed. His mind tried to go for happier moments.

None of them were recent, he realized.

There was just a recent glimpse. A glimpse of James's smile that somehow stuck. A tired smile that appeared at the end of the day--or in the morning. It was curling toward him.

Lars clinged to that little memory as he finally entered the luxurious lobby where he and James would talk. Or at least stare at each other. Or avoid each other. Or...

Maybe he shouldn't have come here at all.

He sat on one of the leather chairs. It whined under his weight, and whined again when he crossed his legs. When he crossed his legs the other way. He stood back up. Walked around. Sat again on a chair closer to the corridor.

People passed by behind the glass, sometimes entering the room to talk to the women at the counter, sometimes walking on to wherever that corridor was leading. Bedrooms, maybe. Bedrooms James was staying in.

Then someone tall appeared behind that glass. He noticed the jeans, the white t-shirt, and...

Round blue eyes with a nice spark in them.

They found him quickly.

And he just sat there.

James walked toward him with a surprised look that turned into a little smile. His shoes almost bumped into Lars's when he stopped and nervously stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Hi." He cleared his throat. "You're here."

_No shit._ “I.” He cleared his throat too. “I…”

It suddenly hurt to talk. And to breathe.

James was here. James was right in front of him.

James quickly turned blurry.

“Lars?”

That little smile turned into a worried frown. He closed his eyes—hot tears burned down his cheeks—and stood up on wobbly legs, equally wobbly arms finding their way around James’s torso.

_I’m sorry._ He smushed his cheek into James’s chest. _Shit. I didn’t…_ His next breath took in James’s scent, and his arms instinctively squeezed tight. _God._ More tears wetted the fabric. _Dammit._

The arms shifted in his hold. Big, warm hands rested on the small of his back.

One slowly rubbed up and down.

Warm breath tickled his scalp. Soft lips brushed his hair.

“I missed you too.”

His fingers reacted, clutching James’s shirt hard. “Ah…” He sighed heavy enough to jerk his whole body. A sharp sniffle, and he clawed more of James’s shirt into his hands. “Fuck. _Fuck._ ”

The hand rubbing his back felt so good. “It’s okay.” And that voice, over his head, loud, reassuring, “It’s okay.” The other hand slid around, until a full arm secured around his waist and squeezed back. “I’m okay.”

That sob finally came out, right into James, and he clamped his mouth shut, teeth chewing lips. _Get a grip, Ulrich. What the fuck. What the_ fuck _._

He sniffled, ready to pull away—and his hands wouldn’t unfurl. “Shit.”

“What?”

“I…” He laughed. It sounded watery. “I can’t let you go.”

“Heh.” Another kiss, longer than the last. “You don’t have to.”

He tried to nod—uselessly—and further tightened his hold. James's heartbeat was steady against his ear.

"I'll be out soon," James continued. His lips were still brushing Lars's hair, until Lars lifted his head to meet his eyes again.

A new image to erase all the bad ones.

"You look so fucking great," he said with a sniff.

James chuckled. "And you look better."

The next kiss was on his forehead.

His nose.

And below.

Their lips didn't meet for long, but slowly pulled apart with a light smack.

He wanted more. His eyes found James’s— _beautiful_ —and he wanted to kiss him again. Kiss him all over his face, kiss him forever. _Fucking beautiful._ Show him how he felt, because words were so useless now.

Another sniff. “God…”

“What?”

“You.” He buried his face into James’s chest again. “Just you.”

The hand on his back slid up to cup the back of his head.

A door slid open and closed. Footsteps clicked near.

“James?” A female voice.

He felt James turn his head. The embrace didn’t loosen one bit. “Yeah?”

“Remember, you have thirty minutes.”

“I know.”

“I’ll come back when it’s time.”

“Thanks.”

He waited for the clicking heels to leave and the sliding door to close before he lifted his head again. James was looking at him a little sadder than before. The hand on the back of his head started to pet him in long, slow strokes.

“I’m sorry,” James whispered.

“Why?”

“It’s not a lot of time. You deserve more.”

He pushed up on his toes to kiss James’s lips again. “It’s enough.”

They sat side by side on a leather couch, hand-in-hand, the entire thirty minutes. The band never came up in conversation. Instead, the focus was on themselves. James interrogated him on a subject he didn’t expect: his own feelings. How was he doing, what was going on, anything at all. Even encouraged him to ask the same questions. He was astounded. Was this the same man he threw out of his life? And as he listened and watched James talk, Lars knew the answer was yes and no. The James he hated was still alive, but the James he fell in love with, that boy deep inside, wasn’t going to let him win. 

When time was up, he didn’t feel sad when James kissed him goodbye. He looked into James’s blue eyes with the nice spark in them, and he felt hope.

“It won’t be much longer,” James said again. “I promise.”

“I know, James.” He kissed him long enough to transform the moment into a memory, pulling slowly away to whisper with sincere conviction, “I believe in you.”

The smile James gave him stayed with Lars as he left for home.


End file.
